Just Desserts
by Taylor Marin
Summary: A short story about the death of a Yeerk, as experienced by its involuntary host. Please R&R flames acceptable!


The Yeerk couldn't have more than a few hours left- I knew it, he knew it. And I think that somehow that kind of gave me a sense of peace. It was as if finally, after so long, he was getting his just desserts, and I had nothing left to worry about. That's the only way to describe the way I felt then- peaceful, carefree, relaxed.   
  
Then, suddenly, that peace was shattered. I simply tried to reach my hand up to push a loose strand of hair behind my ear, only to discover I couldn't. I couldn't turn my head, wiggle my foot, focus my eyes. The Yeerk's illness had distracted him so that I had occasionally been able to have control, but he had me again.  
  
This is what you want, isn't it? he addressed me, sounding strangely lucid and, frankly, the same arrogance he had displayed for the past year or so. Yes, indeed, this is what you have dreamed about and prayed for, ever since I first entered your mind. Are you happy? Are you?  
  
He practically screamed the last two questions, a bit of the insanity of starvation and illness showing through again.  
  
Yes. Yes, I'm happy, I hissed back. I'm happy that after however many minutes you have left, I won't be a puppet any more. I'm happy that I will be able to go give my mother a hug, and it will be me doing it. I'm happy that I could do something as stupid as hanging upside down from a tree limb eating a pomegranate just because I *could*!!!  
  
Eleven minutes, He murmured. Eleven minutes.  
  
I made no response to that. Despite the fact that I pined for freedom more than anything else in the world, my old thoughts about Yeerks still resurfaced. The Yeerk would die. All he had really tried to do was experience the world the way we do. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the best way. But it was the only way his species had ever known.  
  
A tremor passed through his body, a spasm that would go unnoticed by everyone but him and me. Kandrona starvation was pain. Pain that increased, pain that you didn't grow accustomed to over time. Pain. Pain.   
  
I'm not sick any more, he said suddenly, in answer to my unasked question. My thoughts were not my own. I was still a slave. For nine more minutes, I still belonged to another. The sickness goes away before the final minutes of the fugue... But I am so hungry. Gafrash, I am so hungry...  
  
Pain, pain. Pain for him, pain for me. We were one and the same; what was the difference? I was locked in my own mind, watching my captor die. Where was the satisfaction? Why didn't I truly feel the glory of vengeance? Because a sentient being was dying before my eyes and I could do nothing. Pain.  
  
No, you're not really satisfied, are you? He asked tiredly. I needn't talk to him, he knew. No. You aren't like that. You've never been like that, never will be, I hope. Others are, I'm sure. Another might be rejoicing as I die-   
  
He was cut off by another spasm. I could feel the Yeerk's mind beginning to shut down. Our minds seemed to merge into one, and I felt all his emotions as though they were my own.  
  
Pain, Pain. It was the death knell in our minds, beating and pulsing with my heart, the rhythm of my life which still continued, cruelly untouched by his dying.   
  
The Yeerk no longer spoke to me. Memories flashed through our mind. My memories, his memories; they were one and the same, shared by one being. A feeling, the first awareness of warmth, darkness, the squeaks of my brothers in the pool surrounding me. The sound of my parents, the sight of my mother and father smiling at me as I rode a bicycle for the first time. A sudden bombardment of colors, smells, sounds, all things I had never felt before, never imagined existed. I saw through the eyes of a fifteen-year-old girl, saw the world as she saw it. Suddenly felt her hatred for me and realized the world was not perfect just because you could see, touch, taste, smell, walk.  
  
The memories stopped. The dam had been breached, it had trickled, it had burst, and now it had run dry. One set of thoughts and emotions remained in this mind. My thoughts. My feelings.  
  
"It's over." My voice sounded strange to my own ears, as though I was hearing it for the first time. As though I had never heard before at all. I opened my eyes but then had to quickly shut them again, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of color and light.  
  
I felt something cold and lifeless beside my head. As I stared, it shriveled a bit, then diminished into a fine dust which I blew away. The Yeerk. No, no longer just 'the Yeerk'. In the torrent of memories I had discerned a name: Eeyarin 5-8-2. A being, not that unlike myself. A being who was now dead.  
  
"It's over." 


End file.
